


Kingdom Come

by VolxdoSioda



Series: Kingmaker, Kingbreaker [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Flirting, M/M, ghost!Ardyn, when The Prophecy fucks up your happily ever after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 09:28:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15793722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VolxdoSioda/pseuds/VolxdoSioda
Summary: Noctis kills Ardyn and restores peace to the world. His family and friends are safe. That should be it, right? He should marry Lunafreya and ride off into the sunset, like a typical protagonist would. He’s saved his country, he should get the happy ending now, right?Except. The prophecy with his and Ardyn’s name on it prevents that. Namely, the line that goes, “and True King and Starscrourge shall be bound to walk the earth as one; for where light walks, darkness must inevitably walk as well.”But the number of people who know about the contents of the prophecy Noctis can count on one hand and still have at least four fingers left over, so… yeah. He’s on his own on this one.Well. Him and Ardyn anyhow.





	Kingdom Come

**Author's Note:**

> I feel before we get started I should say the following things. I don't go to this fandom. At most, I know a handful of characters, and the only reason I'm writing this is because Ardyn and Noctis' snark is pure fic material for me. I know a little bit of who lives and who dies, but that's it. I haven't played the game proper. Enjoy this self-indulgent nonsense for what it is, and leave canon by the door, please.

**_“How hard it must be, being the royal Prince of Lucis.”_ **

 

“--and so we greet you, Prince Noctis, who has decided to take up his father’s mantle and stand in his stead for these talks. We hope in time, our words will inspire change in you, and with that change, peace for our fair lands. Amen.”

 

“ _ Amen,”  _ the other council members murmur. 

 

“Thank you. I am honored and humbled to be here.” He bows his head - his father had stressed this.  _ “Though you may not like it, you must act the part of the eager young student for a few months. Until you know you can handle yourself. They will want you to do so as well. Do your best for me, Noctis?”  _ And yeah, they’ve all gone through a lot, but his dad’s been stressing out enough for all of them, forced to stay in hiding while his son and heir runs around trying to stop a madman from taking over the kingdoms and bringing their family line to an end. Noctis figures this is probably the least he can do to make up for all the trouble he’s caused.

 

He does his best to ignore the ghostly redhead lounging in the seat beside him.  **_“Oh pooh, you’re no fun. Look at you, my dear boy, all dressed up like one of those stuffy noblemen. Is this what you aspired to be when you drove that sword through my chest? A politician? Oh my dear, I could have made you that at the snap of my fingers. You should have asked. I would have given you, hm,_ ** _ personal  _ **_lessons.”_ **

 

_ Well that’s not going to give me nightmares or anything,  _ Noctis thinks as he forces himself to really focus on what’s being said, and jot notes down on his small notepad from time to time. His dad had pressed him for this - practically begged. Cor would happily gut him if he didn’t, so he takes notes and asks questions from time to time like the aspiring young pupil who at least has a half-notion of how to run a country would.

 

It proves to be a frustrating, unfulfilling, and fruitless meeting. But at least Noctis has his foot in the door. That’s the important bit.

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

“How did it go?” Regis asks him, when he returns later. 

 

**_“You call that a meeting of minds, old man? Clearly you’ve lost yours, if that’s the case.”_ **

 

“It was… enlightening.” He holds up the notepad, nearly three fourths full. “Notes. I think I understood most of it. Just a couple spots I think I tripped over. Didn’t embarrass myself though.”

 

Which is a mercy, given everything. He’s been clumsy and graceless and flying by the seat of his pants for damn near fifteen years now. Any more, and he’s going to be accused of being perpetually stupid.

 

**_“You’re not stupid, dear boy. Suicidal, perhaps. Even lacking the social graces of knowing when to back down. But stupid? No.”_ **

 

He doesn’t roll his eyes at that, or snark back. Arguing with empty air won’t do him any favors today.

 

“Tell me what you need help with,” Regis orders. “It’s been a while since I’ve sat in, but I think I can recall enough to help.”

 

**_“So that’s why they call it that. Because all you senile old goats need that many of you in a room together to make up one whole mind. Charming.”_ ** He feels the phantom touch of someone patting his shoulders. His clothes don’t even slightly shift.  **_“How kind of you to pick up the slack, Noctis. I’m sure you’ll fit right in.”_ **

 

Bastard.

 

“So the water infrastructure,” Noctis starts, and they end the day like that.

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

Day in and day out, Noctis treks to the meeting room, and sits in on meetings that he vaguely has an idea about, and takes notes on things that feel so far over his head it’s almost laughable to think him worthy of any of any of it. Capable of handling any of it. They call him the One True King, but he doesn’t feel like one in these moments. He feels like a child again, bumbling around the palace hallways while the adults work to keep them all alive for another day. 

 

But he can’t be that bumbling child anymore. He  _ can’t.  _ Because Regis is getting too old, and while Ardyn is as close to dead as he’s going to get, and Lunafreya’s seized the throne from her father and taken hold of her own kingdom, that still leaves him behind. He  _ has  _ to get better. He has to work hard, to pick up the mantle as quickly as he can and assume the position of king. His people  _ need  _ him.

 

**_“Isn’t it funny?”_ ** Ardyn’s ghost murmurs to him one particular evening as they’re discussing complaints from the people. Most of them are of the same variety - ‘when will King Noctis assume the throne’.  **_“How quickly they cheer your name when you do something to amuse them, but the instant you stop being funny and start trying to temper yourself, theirs are the first hands to greedily reach out to keep you down. It’s almost sad. And you’re bound to this life for many more years. Noct, if you’d been a sporting boy and let me kill you, none of this would be happening right now.”_ **

 

_ Yeah well if I’d done that, Lucis would also be a slaughterhouse, so maybe shut up? _

 

Ardyn laughs softly in his ear.  **_“Precocious, precious twit,”_ ** he sneers, and then vanishes. He does that sometime. Gets tired of tormenting Noctis and just… leaves. Days like this, Noctis can almost think himself mad, that his concious is playing cruel games on him, developing an image and likeness like Ardyn to keep him on his toes.

 

But he knows it’s not a madness in his head that causes Ardyn to appear. It’s prophecy. The same type of prophecy that spoke of a One True King and a peaceful era for all, spoke of him and Ardyn walking together for the rest of their eternities. He and Ardyn are bound in ways Noctis doesn’t want to understand - he can recite the damn lines from memory by now, the amount of time he’s spent staring at it, running fingers over the words, trying to  _ understand  _ why the Astrals would choose to bind a man who hates him to his side forevermore. What are they aiming to accomplish besides driving him truly mad?

 

Still, he gets the creeping sensation there’s something he isn’t seeing. There’s a reason Ardyn is here, even if his snark makes Noctis want to ram his head into a wall some days. Eventually that reason will probably come to light, and he’ll probably try to avoid whatever it is like he did all his other responsibilities in his youth. And eventually he won’t be able to anymore. It’ll be like everything was with Ardyn all over again, getting pushed and pushed and pushed and eventually having to push back or get knocked off a cliff’s edge.

 

The only question is whether he’ll have enough strength in him by the time that happens to successfully push back or not.

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

His sleep schedule becomes a thing of the past; sleep itself a creature of luxury for him. Long nights are spent pouring over reports and news articles as Noctis tries to keep up to date on everything. He’s glad Regis isn’t just dumping this stuff on him all at once, but they’ve lost precious time trying to fight the Scourge off again, and now they need to get him back up to snuff before the season is out. So that means cramming - and a lot of it.

 

Ardyn mocks him by stretching himself out across Noctis’ perfectly made bed and sighing happily.  **_“Ah, so comfy. Are you certain you wouldn’t like a lie down, majesty? Even just a few precious moments couldn’t hurt, right? I won’t tell.”_ **

 

But Noctis knows if he lies down he’ll fall dead asleep, and he won’t get back up in time for the meetings. It’s already hard dragging himself off the couch in the mornings, but at least the couch is so uncomfortable he  _ can  _ drag himself off. The bed is soft, feather-filled pillows and silken sheets, a luxury in every name. He knows Regis spent a number of days in his youth on the couch too, so this is really just carrying on family tradition at this point.

 

Ardyn sashays up behind him and wraps arms carved with scars around him, puts phantom lips to his ear.  **_“You’re no fun anymore, little Noct. What happened to all those days of you standing back and letting everyone else do things for you, like the brat Princeling you were? Don’t tell me you’re growing up on me, that’d be no_ ** _ fun. _ **_”_ ** He chuckles in dark tones, as if it's the most amusing thing he’s thought of. Noctis deliberately turns his head away and forces himself not to react. It’s been hard, not flinching every time Ardyn gets too close or moves too suddenly in his periphery, but he thinks he’s got it do--

 

**_BAM!_ **

 

He startles as the desk  _ jostles,  _ eyes going wide as he whips around to stare at Ardyn, less than an inch from his face, fist planted firmly on the desk. If he focuses, he thinks he can feel Ardyn’s breath on his face. Thinks he can smell the man’s scent.

 

No. No, Ardyn is  _ dead.  _ How is--

 

**_“I don’t,”_ ** Ardyn murmurs, and the deepness of his voice seems to rattle Noctis’ very bones,  **_“Appreciate being_ ** _ ignored,  _ **_highness.”_ **

 

_ Courage,  _ Regis’ voice says in his head, and Noctis straightens his back, lifts his chin, and stares Ardyn down.

 

“Mind your tone when speaking to your betters, jester,” he hisses softly. “Don’t forget what you are right now, and who made you like that.”

 

Ardyn smiles slowly. It’s a sinister, crooked thing, creeping across his face like a serpent. His fingers dance out, inches from Noctis’ cheek, as if to cup his face.  **_“Oh believe me, I haven’t forgotten. That’s why I’m doing this. They’re taking you away from me, Noctis. My beautiful, wild little hellcat. You looked so regal that night, fighting and clawing tooth and nail to your victory. But now?”_ ** he gestures around him.  **_“You’re_ ** _ boring  _ **_me, Noctis. There’s no victory in these fights. Playing the foolish, dawdling little Prince, like you’re fifteen all over again. Do I have to put you back in the Crystal to get you to pull out that fire from inside you once more?”_ **

 

Noctis in on his feet in a second, nose-to-nose with the phantom, blade up against his throat. “Jester, I’m warning you.  _ Hold your tongue!” _

 

**_“I’ve got a better idea, dear heart,”_ ** Ardyn purrs, and his gaze drops to Noctis’ mouth.  **_“Why don’t_ ** _ you  _ **_do that for me?”_ **

 

Noctis’ mouth goes dry. He thinks he makes a sound of disbelief, and Ardyn’s smile grows wicked. He darts forward--

 

_ Knock, knock, knock. _

 

“Noctis? Everything already in there? We heard you yelling.” Ignis’ voice filters through the wood, and it’s enough of a shock for Noctis to turn, and Ardyn to stop what he’s fixing to do and fixate on the door instead. The sneer that crosses his face then is familiar in a way the heady, seductive warmth of earlier wasn’t, and Noctis focues on that instead.

 

“Sorry, I just dozed off. Didn’t mean to alarm you.”

 

“Please don’t push yourself too much. It will do you no good if you fall asleep at the meetings.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks Ignis.”

 

“Of course.”

 

And then the footsteps drift away, leaving Noctis standing there, sword in hand and feeling like he’s just narrowly avoided a catastrophe. He shakes his head, and lets his sword go. Switching off the light, he moves to the couch and ignores the gaze boring into his back. He kicks his shoes off, drags pillow and blanket into the proper position, ensures he has a time spell ready to go in the morning to wake him, and then drops off to sleep without another word.

 

Ardyn is gone in the morning, but there’s an unfamiliar scrawl on one of his notepads when he goes to collect his paperwork for the morning meeting. 

 

**_Stop looking at the problems that already exist. Look at the root - tear out the root, and you’ll have eliminated the problem. Didn’t your father teach you anything? - A_ **

 

“I already did that with you,” Noctis mutters, bitter. “And look where it got me.”

 

He goes to the meeting feeling a bit more rested than before, and if he starts pushing a little bit with suggestions, well, that’s his business.

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

It becomes something of a dance between him and Ardyn. The casual banter, the slight sneers and insults that Ardyn pushes and Noctis ignores until the heat between them explodes, and Noctis finds himself wondering if Ardyn is really as  _ dead  _ as the Astrals prophecy assures him. Because the moments when Ardyn has him backed up against one of the walls or trapped in a corner, the man doesn’t seem a ghost. He seems  _ tangible,  _ ready to reach out and take what he wants without so much as a by-your-leave, and each time something in Noctis’ chest unfurls like a flower, desperate and greedy for whatever Ardyn is willing to give him. 

 

Each time, they are interrupted. (A mercy.) Each time, Noctis shakes his head at himself and tells himself  _ stop pining over your dead enemy. He tried to kill you.  _ But it doesn’t stop the odd tug he feels every time Ardyn appears, an invisible rope binding them together. Ardyn starts invading his notes when he can’t be there to irritate the shit out of Noctis, jotting down half-sarcastic suggestions and vaguely flirtatious little orders. Things like  _ you should go take a shower, skin as beautiful as yours should never stay filthy for long  _ or  _ go swallow something down, highness.  _ It’s almost… weirdly soothing. To have someone there to remind him of the simple things when he’s drowning in kingly responsibilities. 

 

And he is drowning. By the third month in, he’s being handed reports left, right and center as he goes between meetings and home, he’s talking to delegates a world over about this or that, he’s holding his own at the council meetings, arguing for his people, and reading books that ten years ago would have put him to sleep. Somehow, whether through his own merits or Ardyn’s laborious attempts to drive him to madness by way of snark, he’s doing it. He’s becoming a proper king. 

 

Regis looks proud every time he sees Noctis, though its rare now. Noctis is still cognizant enough to hear snatches of murmurs about them switching rooms - Regis doesn’t need the bigger room now that it’s just him, but more importantly the King’s room was specifically made for  _ Kings.  _ It has the room, the hefty desk to withstand paperwork, the breathing space, and the hiding holes that make for excellent screaming chambers when the world simply becomes  _ too much.  _ Whereas the Heir’s room is more than perfect for Regis at this point, seeing as he’ll be stepping down as soon as Noctis has a hand in every matter and knows how to juggle them all without faltering. 

 

It’s just a matter of time at this point, really. 

 

**_“They’ve trapped you better than I ever could, really,”_ ** Ardyn remarks on a walk through the gardens one evening, him munching on an apple from one of the trees while Ignis and Gladio tailing him at a discreet distance.  **_“And how magnificently they’ve done it as well. Tell me, does your gilded cage come with all the creature comforts, little pet? Does it have a water bowl for you to lap out of when you’re thirsty, or must you go to your master’s lap for that?”_ **

 

He nearly trips over a root, and quickly rights himself. His face burns. He takes a particularly savage bite of the apple to choke down his response. Ardyn’s still watching him, looking for a weak spot. Waiting for him to trip up so he can pounce. 

 

“Creep,” he breathes under his breath, and walks a little faster. Unfortunately, Ardyn forgoes walking in favor of drifting right alongside him. His hand tightens on the apple.

 

**_“Oh my dear Noct, were I alive I can promise you wouldn’t dare put me on the same level as the men who peep and stalk about looking for a couple of panty shots. Not when I’d do so much more to you. You fought for your victory like the little spitfire you are, but if you’d surrendered, oh… it would have been so much sweeter.”_ ** A hand comes out, tracing a thin line around his throat, and Noctis has to remind himself to breathe, not to react, has to remind himself people are watching and if he acts strange they’ll wonder what’s going on. He can’t do that. 

 

**_“I’d put a pretty little silver chain, right here ‘round your neck with a tag on it, embossed with my name, so everyone would know who you’d belong to. Connect it to lovely little custom-made creations on your wrists and ankles. If you were a good boy, I’d let you roam free, but if not, I’d tie you up to my side until you learned to heel. I’d never leave you wanting, Noct. Can you imagine it?”_ **

 

It’s mortifying to say he  _ can.  _ And the images are making something in his throat - and his pants - tighten. Whether with fear or… god forbid,  _ arousal,  _ he can’t say. 

 

_ Where light walks, darkness must inevitably walk as well.  _ He thinks he’s beginning to understand that line. He and Ardyn are two sides of the same coin, and being bound together is just the Astrals’ way of making that apparent. The hunger and rage that lies in Ardyn could easily lie in him too, if he let it. If he bred it, let it fester and bloom under careful hands, he could be another Ardyn. 

 

But he doesn’t want that.

 

_ Turn it around,  _ he thinks.  _ Give him a taste of his own medicine.  _

 

“Well what about  _ you, _ ” he murmurs, keeping his voice barely a whisper on the wind. “What if there at the end, you’d chosen to sukneel to your King instead of struggling so fruitlessly? Do you know what I would have done, Ardyn? I’d have Named you. Taken you by your pretty hair and Named you anew, and then I would have bound you in leather and metal and given you my  _ back,  _ and trusted you with everything I had. Every bit of my heart, every piece of my soul, every secret I bore would have been yours as well. I would have bled myself into you.”

 

Ardyn’s gone frighteningly still beside him, eyes wide, expression no longer a mockery. Instead, there’s a hunger in his eyes that almost makes Noctis’ voice halt, but he thinks  _ you’ve tormented me long enough,  _ and goes on.

 

“I would have taken every word you said at face value. I would never have doubted or abandoned you. If another country took you, tried to twist you against me, I would march on first dawn to find you, and bring the country down on their heads. I would search until I found you, until I could bring you home, and I would comfort you, care for you, love you until you gave in. I would give you everything you ever wanted, and I would not apologize for any of it.” He raises his chin, and looks Ardyn dead in the eyes. “You think you have the upper hand, being dead? You’re lucky. If you were alive, I’d already have you in my lap, and you would beg for my attention at first opportunity.”

 

And with that, he turns on heel and leaves the garden. Ardyn stays behind, floating there, primal, raw hunger unlike anything Noctis has ever seen watching him go. It’s probably a bad idea that’s going to come back to bite him, but he’s stopped caring. 

 

Let Ardyn wage his war. Noctis will always win, in the end.

 


End file.
